


Twisted

by tesha198



Series: Broken [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Annoyed Stiles, Assassin!Oliver, BAMF Stiles, Clueless Derek, Jealous Derek, M/M, Overprotective Derek, Stiles Leaves the Pack, Trip to Nanda Parbat, Unhappy Stiles, Upset Felicity, Worried Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesha198/pseuds/tesha198
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Crooked.</p>
<p>After having returned to Beacon Hills, Stiles feels something is missing. He loves Derek but he doesn't feel like himself when with the pack - they still see him as a weak human unable to protect himself, even Derek. While trying to figure out his next move, Stiles receives a call for help from Felicity saying Oliver is in trouble. Cue an impromptu visit to Nanda Parbat to rescue his friend and ex lover. The problem is, there might not be any Oliver left to save. Can Stiles bring Oliver back from the League of Assassins or will he lose himself in the process?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble in Paradise

“It’s not the same. You have Kira.” Stiles sighed, waving his hand dismissively towards Scott as he continued to pace.

“And you have Derek.” Scott returned, not entirely understanding what was happening.

“I do.” Stiles agreed with a nod and a frustrated expression.

“Then what’s the problem?” Scott asked, still not sure what Stiles was trying to say.

Stiles fell to silence, not wanting to tell Scott he felt lost. Not wanting to reveal to anyone he had changed during his time away from the pack, the time after his father’s death. He wasn’t the same innocent kid that had grown up with everyone in Beacon Hills, and the fact everyone still saw him as such was slowly driving him crazy. The weak human was all anyone saw when it came to training, to a fight. Someone who needed protection. How could he tell his best friend he regretted coming back? That he missed Starling City and the life he’d started to build there.

“Is something going on with you two?” Scott asked, bringing Stiles’ thoughts back to Derek.

“No. He’s just distant is all. He’s so overly careful around me.” Stiles responded in a mumble, resuming the pacing he’d distractedly stopped.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Scott pried, arching a brow confusedly.

“No? I mean yes. I don’t know.” Stiles huffed, dragging his hands down his face in exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, eyeing Stiles with mild concern.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Forget I said anything.” Stiles sighed dismissively, shaking his head with a frown.

A piercing ring sounded through the room before Scott had a chance to respond and Stiles grabbed his phone from his desk.

“Hello?” He answered, somewhat thankful for the distraction.

“Stiles?” Felicity’s voice trembled in Stiles’ ear, immediately making Stiles still and his face set into a hard mask of concerned anger.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles demanded immediately, not used to hearing Felicity anything other than happy.

“It’s Oliver.” There was a short pause in which Stiles expression grew darker before Felicity took a breath and continued. “He’s in trouble.”

“Where is he?” Stiles asked, glancing at Scott who he knew could hear every word of their conversation.

“Nanda Parbat.” Felicity spoke, her voice laced with a concern that put Stiles on edge.

They’d spoken periodically through texts and phone calls since his return home to Beacon Hills. Felicity had tried to keep him in the loop as much as was possible without compromising Oliver’s identity, Starling police had a certain affinity for targeting the Queens and they always had to be concerned about wire taps. Still, Stiles had a general understanding of what Felicity was saying, even if Scott was staring at him in absolute confusion at the phrase Felicity had spoken.

“I thought he wasn’t going down that road?” Stiles replied cryptically, not wanting Scott to know too much about what Oliver had gotten himself involved in.

“He didn’t have a choice.” Felicity explained, the tremble in her voice becoming an angered sharpness. “They killed Thea.”

“I’m on my way.” Stiles assured her, allowing her to whisper a meek thank you over the phone before he hung up and grabbed a duffle bag from under his bed so quickly Scott went tumbling off the bed to avoid getting caught in his path.

“Stiles.” Scott warned, eyeing his friend knowingly.

“It’s not up for debate Scott.” Stiles told him firmly, slinging the bag across his body and heading for the door. “I’m going.”

“How do you plan to get to…?” Scott trailed off, clearly having no clue how to repeat what Felicity had told him.

“We’ve had a plan for months.” Stiles told him, rushing out of the house and towards his jeep. “There’ll be a plane waiting for me.”

Scott frowned, knowing the extent of Stiles’ stubbornness and determination first hand. There was no way his friend was going to calmly remain in Beacon Hills with someone close to him in danger. Even if Scott stopped him now, Stiles would undoubtedly find a way to go when no one was suspecting him to.

With a nod at Scott Stiles tore out of the driveway and down the street in his jeep, leaving scorched rubber stains on the pavement in his haste.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop!” Derek ordered, jumping out of his car and running to Stiles who stood on the tarmac of an abandoned parking lot waiting for the steps of the jet to extend so he could board.

“Derek, I don’t know what Scott told you but you can’t stop me.” Stiles sighed, glancing at Derek only briefly before returning his attention to the jet.

“I know.” Derek huffed with a frustrated frown, narrowing his eyes at the plane as if he could somehow make it disappear. “I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell.” Stiles scoffed, fixing Derek with a defiant scowl.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone.” Derek returned in a growl, his eyes flashing blue.

“I don’t need your protection.” Stiles frowned, his mouth setting into a hard line and his brows knitting together in irritation.

“So you think.” Derek returned fiercely. “I’m getting on this plane with you whether you like it or not.”

Stiles huffed in frustration but said nothing more to object, quickly climbing the steps and boarding the plane in aggravated silence. As much as he hated that Derek thought he was so weak as to need constant supervision, he didn’t have time to argue if the situation was as dire as Felicity had implied.

Derek followed him onto the plane, taking a seat across from him and watching Stiles face as the plane began to lift off the tarmac. As soon as they were airborne Stiles unzipped his bag and pulled out a phone Derek had never seen before, a secure line no doubt. He punched in a number and put it up to his ear, only waiting one ring before someone frantically answered it.

“We’re in the air.” Stiles told Felicity, who sighed in relief. “Now tell me what happened.”

“Ra’s al Ghul wanted Oliver to become heir to the Demon. Oliver refused so he killed Thea. In exchange for bringing her back Oliver had to agree to be the heir.” Felicity explained in a rushed slur. “He’s losing himself, Stiles. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

“Felicity, where are you now?” Stiles asked, already knowing the answer despite wishing he didn’t.

“Nanda Parbat.” Felicity answered guiltily. “With Oliver.”

“Why would you go with him into a den of Assassins?” Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple in small circles to relieve the stress headache brewing behind his eyes.

Derek’s face contorted into concerned shock at the mention of assassins and Stiles turned to face out the window to avoid his prying eyes.

“I wasn’t going to let him go alone!” Felicity chirped back, as if the answer wasn’t ridiculous for a defenseless human to be giving. “Besides, Diggle is here too.”

Stiles exhaled, finding some comfort, however small, in the fact that Diggle was there to protect her if need be.

“We’ll be there soon.” Stiles promised her.

“We?” She repeated, and Stiles could practically see her lips pursing in disapproval.

“Derek’s with me.” Stiles sighed, glancing at Derek before returning to staring out the window at the endless expanse of clouds. “Long story.”

With that Stiles hung up the phone, returning his gaze to Derek as he cleared his throat to not so subtly get his attention.

“Assassins?” Derek growled, narrowing his eyes at Stiles who narrowed his right back.

“The less you know the better.” Stiles responded, refusing to give any more information that might prompt the League to permanently ensure Derek’s silence.

He might not have been happy with the way Derek was pulling away but that didn’t mean he wanted a boyfriend without a tongue. Or a dead one if they figured out Derek could heal.

The rest of the flight was spent in strained silence filled with all the questions Derek wanted to ask but Stiles refused to answer. When Nanda Parbat finally came into view Stiles had never been so happy to be walking into a den of assassins without an invitation in his life.


	2. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so based on comments from the prequel to this story, it was a pretty even split about Derek/Stiles or Oliver/Stiles endgame. That story was 100% done before I started posting it so everyone got what they got in that regard. I'm still working on this story so here's what I'm thinking. Comment which ship you want as an endgame and I'll tally everyone's vote and proceed with the majority.   
> Basically if you really really want Stiles/Derek to be together or Oliver/Stiles to be together get everyone you know to comment your vote and we'll see who ends up winning. This is entirely in your hands so let me know what you think!

The second Nanda Parbat came into view Stiles and Derek were surrounded by a fleet of men, all dressed in black with their faces covered and bows drawn. Derek growled and bared his teeth, crouching down as if preparing to attack. Beside him, Stiles rolled his eyes and raised his hands in surrender. Derek glanced up at him from his crouched position and stilled, returning to a standing position with a strained look of forced control on his face.

Stiles exhaled, narrowing his eyes at Derek, thankful he hadn’t allowed his wolf to surface. As it was, Derek simply looked like an overly aggressive man with strange combat tendencies, not a supernatural werewolf who posed a real threat.

“We’re friends of Oliver.” Stiles announced firmly, glancing around at the archers surrounding them.

One of the men stepped forwards from the circle they were now surrounded by and gestured for the others to lower their weapons. He said nothing but jerked his head to the side in a silent instruction for Stiles and Derek to follow him.

Stiles lowered his hands and set off close behind the assassin, covertly glancing at the other men who filed in behind them.

The assassin led them to an elaborate door that opened as they approached, revealing an oversized room lined with torches and lit with hanging candles. At the far side of the room were stone steps leading to an oversized stone pool of some sort. Stiles was far more concerned with the men standing in the middle of the room, one looking at them in anger and the other a familiar face staring at him in surprise.

“Stiles?” Oliver stated his voice revealing his shock despite the detached mask on his face.

“Hey.” Stiles grinned with a short wave. “Heard you were in over your head.”

“You have violated the long upheld sanctity of this order by coming here uninvited.” Ra’s al Ghul bit in a murderous tone.

He narrowed his eyes at Stiles and Derek at which Stiles simply shrugged, not phased in the slightest by his not so subtle threat.

“I needed a vacation.” Stiles smirked mischievously. “Heard the weather here was nice this time of year.”

“You have fire boy, I’ll give you that.” Ra’s al Ghul replied with a frown and an arched brow.

“So I’ve been told.” Stiles smirked, bowing elaborately.

“And who’s the other one?” Ra’s turned his attention to Derek, fixing him with an intense stare that Derek simply returned.

“My boyfriend.” Stiles interjected, drawing Ra’s attention back to him.

“Stiles. Why are you here?” Oliver ground out, setting his mouth into a hard line and clenching his fists in tense concern.

“You know just needed to get away. Vacation. Make sure you didn’t do something stupid.” Stiles listed off so quickly even Ra’s pursed his lips in confused annoyance.

“Go home Stiles.” Oliver instructed exasperatedly.

“We both know that’s not happening.” Stiles said with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. “Now where’s Felicity?”

With that Stiles was moving to leave the room, already glancing around in search of Felicity as he walked through the dim halls.

“You’re not going to make him leave?” Ra’s al Ghul raised his brows at Oliver.

“He wouldn’t listen.” Oliver sighed, watching as one of the assassin disciples stopped Stiles in the hall and led him towards Felicity’s room.

“He does seem to have a certain spark.” Ra’s chuckled darkly.

“You have no idea.” Oliver mumbled under his breath.

 

* * *

 

 

“Felicity.” Stiles greeted as the much too pushy assassin who’d been guiding them through the halls shoved him into her room.

“Stiles!” Felicity rushed into his arms for a hug before beginning to spew an endless barrage of questions. “When did you get here? Did they do anything to you? Have you seen Oliver? What are we going to do?”

“Felicity. Breathe.” Stiles grimaced.

“What are we going to do?” Felicity repeated, concern clear on her face.

“You aren’t going to do anything.” Stiles replied with a slight frown. “It’s too dangerous. You’re going to stay with Derek.”

“I’m not letting you go off on your own.” Derek growled defiantly from behind him.

“This is not a discussion.” Stiles replied angrily. “You shouldn’t even be here. I might not need your protection, but Felicity does. Now where’s Diggle?” Stiles turned his attention back to Felicity.

“Probably looking for Oliver.” Felicity sighed. “Ra’s al Ghul took him for training a little while ago. Diggle likes to make sure they don’t do anything dangerous.”

“I’ll go find them.” Stiles nodded, heading back out of the room and sending a silent order to Derek to stay with Felicity when he tried to follow.

 

* * *

 

“Do you ever stop training?” Stiles chuckled, strolling into the oversized room devoid of furniture where Oliver was fighting with several assassins. “Your abs are going to have abs.”

“Stiles.” Diggle nodded in greeting from his place leaning against the wall watching Oliver.

“Diggle.” Oliver nodded back. “I’ll take it from here. Derek’s with Felicity.”

Diggle walked out of the room, clapping Stiles on the shoulder as he passed, and leaving Stiles alone with Oliver and his numerous training partners.

“What are you really doing here Stiles?” Oliver huffed, the assassins stepping aside as Oliver stopped throwing punches.

“I’m worried about you.” Stiles shrugged, moving closer to Oliver, ignoring the men in black surveying them both.

“You have Derek. You have a family you can be with. Go home Stiles.” Oliver frowned, clearly trying to mask the pain he was inflicting on himself with each word.

“You also have a family.” Stiles returned with a sympathetic look. “You belong with them in Starling City, not here among killers.”

“My family is dead if I’m not here.” Oliver barked, hardening his voice despite the pain clear in his eyes. “Thea is dead if I don’t stay.”

“She wouldn’t want to be the reason you throw your life away.” Stiles frowned, sad understanding in his gaze.

“And I don’t want to be the reason hers is cut short.” Oliver returned icily. “I’ve ripped my family apart over and over. Thea is all the family I have left. I wont let her die.”

“I’m also your family.” Stiles replied meekly. “So are Felicity and Diggle and every other person who cares for you. What about them?”

“I’m keeping them safe.” Oliver turned away from stiles, walking a few feet before returning to face Stiles once more.

“You’re breaking their hearts.” Stiles sighed.

“Go home.” Oliver insisted, almost pleadingly.

“You know I wont do that. And we both know you’re not strong enough to make me. No matter how hard you train.” Stiles shook his head, adamantly refusing.

“I don’t want you here.” Oliver bit harshly, desperately lashing out to force Stiles away.

“Well tough.” Stiles shrugged, not phased by Oliver’s words. “I’m already here.”

“What’s going on?” Ra’s al Ghul’s angry voice cut through their argument, making both men turn to face him.

“I was just telling Oliver how I imagined this place more sinister.” Stiles offered in response, arching a brow with a challenging smirk.

Ra’s frowned in response, narrowing his eyes menacingly at Stiles who didn’t even flinch at the silent threat. After a moment of mild fascination at Stiles’ lack of apparent fear, Ra’s snapped his fingers and the assassins filed out of the room.

“We’ll continue your training tomorrow.” Ra’s instructed, earning a nod from Oliver and an eye roll from Stiles. “For now get him back to his room before I regret allowing him to live.”

With that Ra’s left the room and Stiles exhaled, trying to remain calm despite the irritation boiling just below the surface.


	3. Trouble in Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far it seems like Stiles/Oliver pairing is winning in the voting so keep the votes coming because there are still quite a few chapters to come!

“You still don’t follow through.” Oliver huffed, jumping out of the path of one of Stiles’ punches.

“And I still don’t want to kill you.” Stiles grinned in response, circling Oliver who was eyeing him like prey.

“I thought you were past your control issues.” Oliver asked curiously.

“I am. Mostly.” Stiles shrugged, throwing another punch that connected with Oliver’s stomach before dodging a knee to the torso in response. “Haven’t had a chance to test it really.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Oliver asked, throwing a jab at Stiles that connected with his shoulder only to earn a kick to the side as Stiles spun to avoid another.

Oliver stumbled slightly with a mild grunt at the impact, the force from the kick much more than what Stiles’ small frame should be capable of. They’d been training for three hours and still neither showed any signs of backing down. The assassins Ra’s al Ghul had assigned for training had been quickly beaten by Oliver and completely destroyed by Stiles who seemed to find infinite amusement in using his spark to overpower them. As it stood Stiles seemed to enjoy the combat sessions much more than he should, as if reveling in the chance to fight and use his power.

“Not sure.” Stiles replied, blocking Oliver’s swing with expert precision. “The pack keeps me on a short leash. Haven’t seen any action. Haven’t even had a real training session since I left Starling City.”

“By the pack you mean Derek.” Oliver grunted, elbowing Stiles in the face and watching as he stumbled back slightly.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking.” Stiles sighed, grabbing Oliver’s punch and pulling him forwards before elbowing him in the back with far more strength then a human was capable of. “Actually I do. I’m a child who can’t fight and needs constant supervision.”

“Sounds fun.” Oliver chuckled, amused at Stiles’ frustration. “Explains why you’re form is off.”

Oliver snaked a foot around Stiles’ and landed a quick jab to his chest, watching in satisfaction as he tripped backwards and landed with a grunt on the hard floor.

“Still the only one who can match you.” Stiles laughed, accepting Oliver’s hand to help him up only to pull him forwards and throw him overhead with a foot to his chest.

“We’ll see.” Oliver returned, quickly springing to his feet to throw another punch only to be stopped by a furious shout.

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice interrupted them, making Oliver hesitate and Stiles able to land a jab to his face. “I thought I told you not to spar with him.”

“And I thought I told you to stay with Felicity.” Stiles sighed, easing out of his combat form and watching as Oliver did the same. “I’m fine.”

“You’re covered in bruises, you’re not fine.” Derek snapped back.

Stiles shot Oliver an annoyed look before walking to Derek with a scowl and clear frustration.

“He’s quite good.” Ra’s al Ghul commented, coming to stand beside Oliver as they watched Stiles exit the room with Derek.

Oliver said nothing, not wanting Stiles to become some sort of sick prize to the man who’d attempted to murder his sister.

 

* * *

 

 

“What is wrong with you?” Stiles demanded, snapping at Derek with a ferocity normally reserved for people coming after the pack.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Derek replied firmly, his brows knitting together in concerned irritation.

“In case you weren’t paying attention, I was fine.” Stiles huffed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not a child.”

Derek didn’t say anything, simply frowned darkly and averted his eyes as if unable to look at Stiles out of anger.

“Oh my god.” Stiles gawked, moving to get back into Derek’s line of sight. “You still think of me as a child!”

Derek remained silent, his eyes boring into Stiles’ revealing everything he wasn’t saying.

“Is that why you’ve been pulling away?” Stiles asked, his voice growing quieter with each word as if ultimately afraid to ask the question.

When Derek still didn’t respond Stiles turned, drawing his hands down his face and moving as if to shake out excess energy before returning to face Derek head on.

“You have no right to tell me what to do.” Stiles informed him darkly, narrowing his eyes in a pained rage. “Especially when you’ve been so distant. I am not helpless. And I definitely do not need your protection.”

Stiles turned and stormed away, back into the room to continue training with Oliver. Derek watched him go, still standing in stunned silence at Stiles outburst. He waited a few moments, half expecting Stiles to come racing out the room and apologize in a clumsy rush of words as he would have in the past. He never did. There was no hesitation in him when he left Derek in the hall, no turning around, not even a slight tremble in his walk. Derek frowned and turned to navigate his way back to Felicity and Diggle, unsure where this left his relationship with Stiles.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was growing restless. He hadn’t seen Stiles in days and was beginning to go out of his mind with regret. His wolf was growing edgy inside him, pushing at the edges of his mind and threatening to break loose at any moment. Despite sharing a room Stiles had stopped sleeping in their bed. Derek had woken up the last couple days to find Stiles sleeping on a couch on the far side of their room, back towards the bed as if unable to stand even the sight of Derek there. By the time morning came and Derek woke, Stiles would be gone without fail. Every waking moment of his time had become devoted to Oliver. Training with Oliver. Eating with Oliver. Having hushed conversations with Oliver no one else could hear. It was driving Derek, not to mention his wolf, to absolute madness.

Felicity was proving to be an adequate distraction in Stiles’ absence but even that was proving futile in terms of calming himself. In all honesty, Felicity reminded him of how Stiles used to be. Before the Nogitsune. Before his father’s death. Before he ran away. The old Stiles who was full of energy and impossible to focus. The one who spoke so fast others could barely keep up but who came up with plans that were crazy yet somehow always worked out.

They spent most of their time playing cards, lazing around Felicity’s room under constant guard from the assassins posted outside. No longer could Derek simply leave to go find Stiles if the mood struck him, and the fact that he didn’t know if that was Stiles’ doing or Oliver’s was driving him insane.

“How can you be so calm?” Derek growled, the question coming out more harshly than he’d intended.

“You mean in the face of hundreds of assassins who could kill me at any moment?” Felicity asked, the words pouring out as if uncontrollably. “Not easily.”

“No.” Derek returned, his growl becoming even deeper than before. “I mean with Stiles and Oliver always together.”

“They’re friends.” Felicity shrugged, throwing a card down into the ever-growing pile.

“Friends don’t leave hickeys on each other.” Derek huffed, throwing down his own card.

“Wait. What?” Felicity spluttered, confused shock settling over her features as she put the cards in her hand down signaling she was done playing.

“You didn’t know?” Derek asked, surprised by her lack of observation skills.

He’d visited Starling City for a matter of days and easily discovered Stiles and Oliver’s relationship. Sure he had an acute sense of smell to aid his discovery, but she’d spent almost every day with them before he’d arrived.

“No!” Felicity gasped, clearly spiraling into a small panic.

She clamored to her feet and began pacing around the room, making Derek grimace as he watched her. A few moments of tense silence went by before Felicity stilled and touched her hand to her mouth before dropping it to her side.

“It doesn’t matter.” She announced with far more conviction than Derek thought she was capable of.

“Really?” Derek gaped, stunned by her calm acceptance.

“Oliver and Stiles have a connection not many people can understand.” Felicity explained, watching as Derek’s brows knitted together in frustration. “When they met they were both in a very dark place. They’ve experienced pain that no one should ever have to experience and it transformed them into different people. Besides, when Stiles was in Starling City Oliver and I weren’t together. If he took comfort with Stiles I have no right to judge, and neither do you.”

Derek’s frown deepened, clearly not ready to adopt the calm acceptance Felicity seemed to have achieved.

“Whatever might have happened, I have absolutely no doubt Oliver loves me.” Felicity announced, a small smile breaking across her face. “With everything going on I don’t want to waste my time with Oliver thinking he’s unfaithful. He would never do that and neither would Stiles. You’re relationship issues with Stiles have absolutely nothing to do with Oliver.”

Derek sighed, dragging a hand down his face before peering back up at Felicity.

“He’s not as vulnerable as you seem to think he is.” Felicity spoke softly, an understanding smile gracing her mouth.


	4. Sharara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update (on every story) I had to pull a double and then it was mothers day. But here it is!! Also just for those of you who can actually translate the Sharara thing, my friend who speaks Arabic translated it for me so hopefully it is right. Comment what you think!

“I’m causing problems for you.” Oliver panted, twirling out of the way of Stiles’ hit.

They were both coated in a film of sweat and had removed their shirts in an effort to keep cool rather than stop. Oliver drew his bow, aiming for Stiles and releasing the arrow without a moment’s hesitation. Stiles batted the arrow out of the air with the battle staves he was twirling and swung one at Oliver’s legs in an attempt to trip him.

Every waking moment since Stiles had arrived at Nanda Parbat had been filled with training, and although Oliver was thankful for a capable partner and a distraction from his apparent problems, only a fool couldn’t see Stiles’ relationship was crumbling.

“The problems were already there.” Stiles answered, dodging another arrow with expert precision.

Oliver frowned, not naïve enough to think for a second that Derek didn’t assume Stiles was being unfaithful. He waved a hand, signaling a break and Stiles straightened up out of his crouch, rolling his shoulders and moving to grab a nearby glass of water.

“You should talk to him.” Oliver suggested, noticing Stiles eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“You should stop worrying about my love life and focus on your current imprisonment.” Stiles pointed at Oliver, setting the glass of water down.

“If I leave Thea and everyone else dies.” Oliver huffed, crossing his arms and fixing Stiles with an irritated glare. “I can’t shoot my way out of this.”

“You can’t stay here either.” Stiles frowned, his breathing slowly returning to normal after their workout. “It isn’t safe. You don’t think some of these assassins wont try to kill you the first chance they get? You’re an outsider taking over, you can’t be very popular.”

“It’s not your concern.” Oliver retorted in a tone that implied he was done with the conversation.

Stiles frowned, watching as his friend dumped some water on his head and carded his fingers through his hair to get rid of the excess. It had been about a week since he’d arrived and he was no closer to convincing Oliver to give up on his self-sacrificing plan to remain on Nanda Parbat.

The doors across the room swung open, and Stiles glared harshly at Ra’s al Ghul as he marched over to Oliver. Behind him several assassins were guiding Diggle, Felicity and Derek who had deep scowls on their faces at being prodded when they refused to move forward as instructed.

“What’s going on?” Stiles demanded, eyes locked on the assassins surrounding his friends, ready to kill whoever tried to harm them.

“It’s time you were officially inducted into the League.” Ra’s announced, ignoring Stiles and coming to Stand directly in front of Oliver. “Your life as Oliver Queen will be erased and you will become heir to the Demon.”

“You can’t erase him!” Stiles shouted, jumping forward to stand beside Oliver defensively. “What does that even mean? And why are they here?”

Ra’s waved a hand and the assassins pushed Derek and the others forwards, making Felicity stumble and Derek growl angrily.

“Your friends are no longer welcome here. You’ve lived up to your end of the bargain. They will be sent home unharmed.” Ra’s announced, and as if his declaration were an order the assassins began harshly guiding them towards the door.

A couple assassins came to Stiles and drew their bows, silently ushering him towards the others to be banished from the base. Stiles’ eyes narrowed, refusing to move despite the weapons blatantly pointed at him and never breaking his defiant glare at Ra’s. Stiles could hear Felicity struggling against her captors and Diggle barking at them to stop pushing her.

“I want to stay.” Stiles proclaimed firmly. “I offer myself to the League.”

Ra’s looked mildly stunned but mostly impressed as Stiles words echoed through the room, filled with an unbreakable conviction. Across the room Stiles could hear Derek growling in protest, a feral sound that made his heart stutter in guilt but didn’t waver his resolve. His eyes remained locked with Ra’s al Ghul’s and the man’s lips slowly spread into a sickeningly demonic smile.

“Very well.” Ra’s nodded, waving the assassins away from Stiles without breaking their stare.

The room seemed to fall away as the men stood in silence, neither blinking nor averting their gaze in a sick challenge of power. What felt like an eternity passed between them before Oliver stepped in front of Stiles and broke their battle.

“I don’t want him here.” Oliver bit, a desperate attempt to force Stiles to leave.

“You don’t speak for me.” Stiles returned before Ra’s had a chance to respond.

“The boy has made his decision. He was not a part of our bargain and therefore not under your protection.” Ra’s spoke, dismissing Oliver’s demand.

“What possible reason could you have for wanting him?” Oliver demanded in a harsh whisper.

“His skills are on par with yours and an asset to our order.” Ra’s offered, turning to face the assassins still corralling the others.

Exhaling deeply Stiles stoned himself before turning to face Derek and the others. Derek’s eyes locked with his, pleading and frantic with an undercurrent of anger that never seemed to leave. He backed towards the door as the assassins instructed, albeit extremely slowly, never breaking his stare with Stiles as if expecting him to revoke his declaration to stay. Stiles remained silent, a cold detachment in his eyes as he watched Derek be forced from the room. Inside, his heart was breaking. He’d hoped to somehow fix things with Derek and return home together with a newfound understanding between them. Instead he was watching as his lover was forcibly removed from his presence, an uncaring look plastered on his face to mask his emotional turmoil.

Even when Derek was out of sight Stiles could vaguely hear the growls erupting from his chest, no doubt enraged by the rough treatment he and the others were receiving. Stiles had no doubt Derek could break free from the assassins if he tried. The arrows weren’t laced with wolfsbane or anything else that would hinder his power and overpowering a couple of humans wouldn’t take much for wolf strength. Stiles also had no doubt he wouldn’t risk Diggle and Felicity’s safety, so it was a pretty safe bet he would leave quietly save for the growling currently echoing off the walls of the halls.

Before long even Derek’s growls faded to silence and Stiles was left with nothing but a tense silence and Ra’s eyeing him as if searching for any hint of weakness. Stiles didn’t give him the satisfaction, his face permanently set into a hollow mask with nothing but a cold fury burning behind his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Stiles followed Oliver into the room, an empty expanse illuminated by candlelight with nothing but a small pedestal in the center and some rope hanging from the rafters. Oliver had the same hollow look as Stiles, clearly internalizing everything and giving a forced air of calm Stiles could spot a mile away.

Oliver stepped up onto the pedestal, wrapping his arms in the rope hanging above. Ra’s al Ghul began circling him, and Stiles watched him meticulously, noting every minor change in expression, every movement and every glance. Oliver remained still and silent, and as Ra’s started to speak Stiles drifted into his own mind, his eyes fixed on Oliver but not listening to anything being said. It wasn’t until a woman stepped forward with a hot iron brand that Stiles snapped back into the conversation and stepped forwards incredulously.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Stiles spat darkly. “You are not branding him.”

“It’s fine Stiles.” Oliver spoke, cold and determined.

Without another moment’s hesitation and without giving Stiles any more chance to object, the brand was planted against Oliver’s skin and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. Oliver barely flinched as the hot metal scorched his skin, his white knuckles the only real indication pain was ripping through him. Stiles watched darkly as Oliver unwound his arms from the rope and stepped off the platform, an arrowhead permanently burned into the flesh of his shoulder blade.

As Oliver stepped down, all eyes turned to Stiles and he narrowed his eyes at Ra’s. Without a hint of reluctance Stiles took Oliver’s place on the platform and wrapped his arms with the rope, gripping it tightly to stop himself from acting on the urge to punch Ra’s al Ghul. A shortened version of the speech Oliver had been given filled the silence and Stiles locked eyes with Oliver, a silent understanding passing between them. Stiles inhaled sharply as the heat from the branding iron cut into the flesh of his back, focusing every inch of his magic to subduing the pain to a manageable level. His eyes narrowed slightly as the mark scorched his skin, a permanent reminder of he path he’d chosen to take and the people he’d left behind.

“Stiles is dead.” Ra’s al Ghul announced, the branding iron leaving Stiles’ back but the pain remaining just as strong. “You are now Sharara. The Spark.”


	5. A Small Detour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Questions? Concerns?

Stiles walked into the room, clad all in black with a battle stave strapped to each calf and throwing knives hidden in various places across his body. Although Ra’s al Ghul seemed to think every assassin in the League needed to carry a quiver and bow, he didn’t protest too much when Stiles demanded a different kind of weapon.

In the room, Oliver and Ra’s were conversing in hushed tones, a low murmur inaudible to anyone except them. When Stiles approached their conversation stopped and the two men turned to gaze at him. 

Stiles bowed in respect, a hollow gesture but one that seemed to please Ra’s nonetheless.

“We have a task for you.” Ra’s al Ghul announced, folding his hands behind his back as he turned to address Stiles.

Stiles straightened from his bow and nodded, waiting in silence for Ra’s al Ghul to explain. Since their branding, Ra’s had been spending an abundance of time with Oliver, who seemed to be taking to his new role with more ease than Stiles had thought possible. In preparation for Oliver’s takeover, Stiles had been assigned to be his right hand – a shadow that carried out any missions too sensitive for the other League members to be privy to. He’d only been sent out of Nanda Parbat twice since their branding, and both times were in close proximity to the base, simple assassination missions that took no more than a day to complete.

“A woman from Oliver’s past life has surfaced in California. Helena.” Ra’s spoke, Oliver standing silent and still beside him.

Since Oliver’s branding he had become more and more distant. With each passing day his memory seemed to fade and his humanity seemed to slip away until nothing was left but loyalty to the League. When Ra’s had said Oliver Queen would no longer exist, Stiles had assumed it a metaphor for abandoning hope of escape but as time went on Stiles was beginning to think his memories of Oliver Queen were actually disappearing forever.

“We need you to take her out.” Ra’s instructed, Oliver nodding in agreement at his side.

Stiles nodded and turned to leave, needing no further instruction.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Scott demanded, eyes flashing red in barely contained anger.

“He’s not coming back.” Derek responded, a look of empty acceptance on his face.

“Then we’re going to get him.” Scott barked, making the rest of the pack flinch.

“We can’t.” Derek sighed, frowning and crossing his arms. “I don’t know where he is.”

“How can you not know?” Lydia chirped, lips pursed in irritation. “You were there with him.”

“We got picked up by a private plane. There are no landmarks in the sky.” Derek growled, eyes narrowing in resentment. “And while we were there we were basically hostages.”

“So you left Stiles in an unknown place we have no chance of ever finding, with an army of assassins capable of killing him at any moment, and no way to contact him or find out of he’s okay.” Lydia snapped, folding her arms in accusation as Scott paced irritably around the loft, practically vibrating with anger.

Derek said nothing but his guilty frown and averted gaze spoke volumes. There was nothing the pack could do to get Stiles back. Retrieving him from Starling City had been child’s play compared with breaking him out of a secret base filled with highly trained assassins.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was perched on a rooftop, blending into the dark of the night like an invisible shadow. Below, the streets were quiet save for the odd car coming through and the patrons exiting the all-night diner he was surveilling across the street.

In the window of the diner Helena was sitting, sipping a cup of coffee and watching a man in a different booth. It had been approximately a week since he’d been sent to kill Helena and his recon had found her doing her own surveillance on a brawny looking man covered in tattoos.

The man stood up from his booth and left the diner, Helena following a few moments behind, leaving just enough space between them so the man didn’t realize he was being tailed.

Stiles watched from his place on the roof, infinitely amused by her antics. When the man neared an alley, Helena pushed him into it and without giving him time to blink stabbed him in the neck. The man looked shocked before his eyes dimmed and he fell to the ground in death, his blood coating the ground of the alley.

“Someone’s been a bad girl.” Stiles chuckled, dropping down into the alley from his perch on the roof.

Helena jumped, spinning around to throw a punch at Stiles who easily blocked it with a roll of his eyes.

“Who are you?” Helena demanded harshly, narrowing her eyes and holding her arms up ready to throw another punch.

Stiles said nothing, simply took out a throwing knife so thin it could be classified as a needle and threw it at her. It lodged in her neck and her eyes widened, completely caught off guard before she stumbled to the ground, blinking in shock as she realized she couldn’t move. Looming over her, Stiles raised his arm and clenched his hand into a fist, feeling the familiar pull of his spark as it wrapped around her heart and clenched until the organ exploded and she gurgled with blood in her mouth before death took her.

The second she died Stiles was gone, blending back into the night in his assassin garb, everything but his eyes covered in complete blackness. His job was done and he had to head back to Nanda Parbat, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a small detour along the way.

 

* * *

 

 

Scott felt the sickening crunch as he was slammed into a tree, his shoulder cracking under the force. He roared in pain, feeling the bone already beginning to strengthen and heal under his skin. The rest of the pack continued their attack, desperately trying to find an opening to subdue the demon that’d attacked them.

It had been weeks since Stiles had vanished and they were still no closer to finding him. It certainly didn’t help that they now had an angry demon and her legions to contend with. Apparently even Nogitsunes had friends, and when they’d killed the one possessing Stiles they’d pissed off a demon with a certain thirst for vengeance.

Scott cringed as Isaac was flung across the clearing, skidding to a stop in a plume of dirt that sprayed up under his weight. As quickly as was possible while still healing, Scott rose to his feet and rejoined the fight. Derek was the next to go down, and while Scott was busy battling a few of her minions, the demon took it upon herself to personally end Derek’s life.

He lay in the dirt, face scrunched in pain as he popped the bones in his arm back into place. The demon came to stand over Derek, peering down at him with a sickening grin that was far too dark to belong on her childlike face. Her short blonde pixie cut fluttered ever so slightly in the evening breeze and as she grinned, dimples appeared in her cheeks and her eyes melted into pure black orbs that were like peering into an abyss. She raised a hand, her grin widening at the glint of fear in Derek’s eyes that lay below the pain.

Before she had a chance to bring her arm down to crush him, however, a dart flew threw the air and embedded in her wrist. Derek’s eyes widened in shock and the Demon’s narrowed in anger as she found herself unable to move her fingers.

Drawing her gaze away from Derek she locked eyes on a figure clad in all black standing across the clearing. His head was down, his oversized hood shrouding his face in shadow and making him unidentifiable. The demon exhaled, pulling the dart from her wrist and throwing it to the ground angrily. With a slight jerk of her head, her minions abandoned their battle with Scott and others, all of whom were bloody and near collapsing in exhaustion, and charged the hooded figure.

The figure didn’t move, simply remained so still the pack questioned whether it was actually a person at the edge of the clearing or a statue. Moments before the minions reached him, the figure grabbed two metal poles from his calves and swung at the closest minion, sending the beast reeling back in a shower of blood as a large wound opened across its torso. With that all hell broke loose. The minions attacked without mercy and the hooded figure killed each and every one of them. Twirling out of the way of blows and striking with expert precision. When there were only a few assailants left he rushed forwards, straight for the demon. She looked taken aback at first, as if shocked anyone would attempt to engage her directly, before her face contorted into fury and she raised her arms as if to use some sort of magic. In response the hooded figure threw one of his metal weapons towards her, and the pack watched as the pole lodged into her stomach and she clutched at it in bewilderment. The figure stopped then, as if assessing the demon for a moment as she struggled to tear the pole out of her torso, before he raised his own hand, clenched it into a fist, and watched the woman begin leaking blood out of every orifice of her body.

The remaining handful of minions seemed to freeze in stunned terror, unsure what to do with their master lying motionless in the clearing, bleeding profusely. The hooded figure turned to them then, throwing a few of his darts and watching as the creatures died where they stood.

What was left was a clearing filled with bodies cut to pieces, some with darts protruding from various parts of their bodies, the ground stained with blood everywhere you looked. The pack slowly rose to their feet, eyeing the figure now standing over one very terrified looking minion, trembling on its knees and begging to be spared.

“This pack is under the protection of Ra’s al Ghul.” The figure declared, pulling back his black hood to reveal an all to familiar face. “Spread the word.”

With that the only remaining living underling scrambled to his feet and fled the clearing, not bothering to look back as he ran.

“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice spoke, practically a whisper as she and the rest of the pack came to stand closer to him.

Stiles said nothing, simply turned to fix the pack with an aloof stare as they gaped at him. Their faces were pulled into expressions of absolute shock as they surveyed him, slowly taking a step closer to him every few moments as if approaching all at once would for some reason cause him to disappear.


	6. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for more real soon.

“What the hell is going on?” Derek demanded, rushing to Stiles while the rest of the pack remained at a safe distance.

“You’re welcome.” Stiles replied, holstering his battle staves back in place on his calves.

“Does you being here mean you’re coming home?” Scott asked, stepping forward and cutting off whatever Derek was about to say.

“No.” Stiles replied without a moment’s hesitation.

“Cut the crap.” Derek growled, grabbing the front of Stiles’ shirt and pulling him close like the old days when he’d pin him against walls. “Come back to Beacon Hills where it’s safe.”

“For the last time. I. Don’t. Need. Your. Protection.” Stiles returned, pulling the hood back up and moving to leave, easily breaking free from Derek’s hold.

The pack rushed after him, Derek in the lead.

“Where are you going?” Derek demanded, keeping stride with Stiles as he walked.

“I’m going to the loft.” Stiles replied, stopping suddenly to turn to the rest of the pack who was trailing behind him and Derek. “I suggest you get her body to Deaton before she wakes up. I doubt simple weapons will keep her dead for long.”

Scott glanced back at the demon lying unmoving in the clearing before returning his attention to Stiles, a look of confused indecision on his face.

“I’ll be in the loft when you get back.” Stiles nodded, turning and leaving the clearing, Derek following closely behind.

The loft looked the same as when he’d left, just as barren and dark as ever, with barely a single piece of furniture save for the bed in Derek’s room upstairs. Which was exactly where Stiles headed the second he entered the loft, paying no attention to Derek’s questions.

“Pants. Off.” Stiles ordered, stripping off his black clothes and dumping them on the floor.

Derek looked mildly startled before his eyes dragged across Stiles abs and his clothes began meeting Stiles’ on the floor. The second Derek’s pants hit the floor, Stiles was pushing him onto his back on the bed and sitting on top of him, licking his lips and grinding his hips down into Derek’s crotch. Derek’s chest rumbled at the friction and Stiles smirked, leaning forwards to bite Derek’s bottom lip. As if a switch had suddenly been flipped, Derek rolled, spinning them both so he was pressing Stiles into the mattress beneath him. Stiles inhaled sharply, his head falling back as Derek kissed his neck, his hands coming to rest on Derek’s broad back and tracing the muscular definition they found there.

Derek’s mouth moved from Stiles’ neck, trailing down his abs to his hip bone and finally lower until Stiles was bucking under the sensation of Derek’s mouth wrapped around his cock. After what felt like an eternity of teasing, Derek released him, licking his own fingers and slowly inserting them inside Stiles. Stiles writhed under Derek’s touch, desperately fisting the bed sheets in an attempt to keep it together. A brief pause came, in which Derek removed his fingers from inside him and just as Stiles was beginning to catch his breath, ruthlessly thrust into him making Stiles’ back arch off the bed at the sensation. It took only a few short moments for Derek to set the perfect rhythm, torturously slow going in and quick pulling out, and before long Stiles was moaning beneath him.

After a few minutes of Derek pounding into him, he suddenly flipped them again so Stiles was sitting atop him and gravity was making their contact deeper than Stiles thought possible. Derek propped himself up on headboard, Stiles panting in his lap as he began trailing his hands down Stiles’ back.

Stiles flinched when Derek’s fingers traced over his brand and Derek’s eyes widened in shock at the ridges of burned flesh under his touch.

“What is that?” Derek asked incredulously, studying Stiles face as he continued to trace the raised lines on his lovers back with more detail.

“It’s nothing.” Stiles insisted, locking eyes with Derek and bouncing slightly atop him in an effort to distract him from his discovery.

Derek frowned slightly but allowed Stiles to distract him, recognizing a sensitive topic when he found one. As they rolled around a few more times, alternating between Derek pounding into him and Stiles riding Derek like he were a rollercoaster, Derek took every opportunity to covertly study Stiles’ mark – an arrowhead scorched into his pale flesh with a small glint tattooed on the edge in black ink.

It wasn’t long before Stiles was crying out under Derek’s thrusting and Derek was spilling into him with an animalistic growl. They separated and Stiles was left panting on his stomach in absolute bliss beside Derek in bed.

Derek watched as Stiles closed his eyes, focusing on steadying his breathing only to wind up asleep. He traced the scarred image seared into Stiles back lightly with his fingertips, imagining what Stiles had to go through to get it and memorizing every line under his touch until finally he fell asleep.

When Derek woke a few hours later it was to a banging on the door to his loft and he groaned, extending his arm to swat Stiles awake only to find the bed empty beside him. He bolted upright, searching the room for any sign of his lover only to find Stiles’ clothes gone and a small scrap of paper beside him on the bed where Stiles’ body should have been. Quickly, he grabbed the piece of paper and threw on a pair of sweatpants before rushing downstairs to open the door to who he could already tell was Scott and the rest of the pack.

“Okay demon lady is dealt with. Now where’s Stiles?” Scott asked the second the door to the loft was opened, rushing inside and looking around for his friend.

“Derek?” Lydia asked, eyeing him knowingly as he read the piece of paper Stiles had left.

“He’s gone.” Derek said, a wounded disbelief in his voice as if saying so was more to convince himself than the pack.

Recognizing they weren’t going to get much more information from Derek when he looked like he could barely recite his own name, Lydia snatched the piece of paper Derek was blindly staring at and read it aloud.

 

_Derek,_

_I cannot return until I save Oliver. When I was lost and out of control, Oliver saved me. It’s my turn to return the favor. The people who have him have changed him. He’s slowly forgetting himself and everyone he loves. I can’t let that happen._

_I don’t know how long it will take but I will bring him home._

_Burn this after you read it. If anyone finds out I returned to my old life you will all be killed._

_Stay safe._

_Stiles._

 

“What are you doing?” Scott barked as Derek tore the note from Lydia’s hands, rushed to the kitchen and held it over the stovetop.

The pack watched it incredulously as the paper quickly ignited, burning into nothing but a tiny pile of ash that Derek quickly swept away like dust.

“I’m doing what he said.” Derek replied once the paper was completely destroyed. “These people Stiles is with, they don’t mess around.”

“That was our only chance of finding him!” Scott bellowed angrily, lunging towards Derek only to be stopped by a hand on his chest from Liam.

“There was nothing on that paper that would help us find him!” Derek returned in an angry snarl, his eyes flashing blue as he threw a nearby coffee mug at the wall and watched it shatter.

Scott looked taken aback by Derek’s sudden outburst, calming down slightly as he watched the man pace the kitchen like a caged animal.

“You don’t think I want him back?” Derek continued, squaring his shoulders to Scott accusingly. “There is nothing we can do! Stop being a child and trust that he knows what he’s doing!”

“I thought you wanted to keep him safe.” Scott eyed Derek curiously, completely calm and wanting to hear the answer.

“I do.” Derek huffed, wiping his hand down his face as if wiping away any remaining thoughts of doubt. “But Stiles is a fighter. If anyone can make it out of a den of assassins it’s him.”


	7. Shell Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Hope you enjoy and more to come soon!   
> Don't forget to comment and visit my page for more stories!

“You’ve been gone longer than expected.” Ra’s al Ghul spoke, silent accusation in his voice.

Stiles frowned, hating how the man was able to tell it was him approaching despite never having turned to look.

“There was a complication.” Stiles offered, bowing slightly as he spoke.

The gesture seemed to placate Ra’s, who turned to eye Stiles, a silent inquiry as to the supposed complication.

“The target was hunting a man in the city.” Stiles explained. “I had to do further recon to ensure he didn’t know anything.”

“And the target?” Ra’s arched a brow, as if expecting Stiles to say he’d left her alive and well back in California.

“Dead. As is the man.” Stiles nodded, watching as Ra’s al Ghul’s expression relaxed ever so slightly.

“Good.” Ra’s returned, waving a hand dismissively to signal Stiles could retire for the night.

Stiles bowed one last time, smothering the part of his brain that told him to give the man the middle finger instead, before leaving the room. He was no fool, so long as Ra’s al Ghul was alive he had the power to ruin everything. To kill Stiles on a whim and use the seemingly brainwashed Oliver however he saw fit. If Stiles had any hope of getting Oliver’s memories of his old life back, he needed to appear loyal to the League.

He sauntered into his room, dim and cold compared to Derek’s loft still fresh in his mind. With a sigh he collapsed onto the bed, exhausted both from his trip and having to lie to a master assassin about his delay in returning to Nanda Parbat. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him, the feeling of Derek’s touch still fresh on his skin as he drifted off.

 

* * *

 

 

“Get up.” A voice instructed, cutting through Stiles’ sleep and making him jerk upright in bed.

Reflexively he hurled one of his throwing knives at the man standing in his doorway, the blade wedging into the wooden frame mere inches from his head. The man seemed startled for a moment, slightly taken aback by his near death so early in the morning, before he spoke again.

“Ra’s al Ghul and his heir request your presence.” The man pressed, a new harshness in his tone after having almost been impaled.

“Of course they do.” Stiles mumbled to himself, climbing out of bed and throwing on the usual clothes members of the League wore.

He followed the man from his room and to the training hall, where Ra’s and Oliver were standing discussing something in serious and angry tones.

“We have a mission for you.” Ra’s spoke, level and authoritative, yet somehow fueled by more emotion that Stiles had ever seen the stone-faced man display.

“Seriously? I just got back like four hours ago.” Stiles frowned, unsure how to interpret the odd tension still hovering between Ra’s and the silent Oliver standing beside him with a dark scowl.

Ra’s raised his brows, a silent demand for respect that somehow reminded him of a more murderous Derek.

“What is it?” Stiles sighed, stoning his face back to a hard mask and asking with assassin-like detachment.

“One of our own has been captured and detained in a prison in Starling City.” Ra’s spoke, folding his hands behind his back and straightening his posture so he appeared even more authoritative than before. “Given that certain people there know of the League and may try to use this person in some sort of plot, we need you to go and retrieve him.”

“Retrieve or kill?” Stiles asked levelly, glancing at Oliver whose scowl was only deepening.

“Use your discretion. Our primary concern is the integrity of the League.” Ra’s answered. “You’ll be accompanying Al Sah him.”

He gestured to Oliver, who said nothing, standing like an obedient dog at Ra’s side with nothing but a scowl as evidence of his objection. It made Stiles frown, hating the twisted lapdog his friend was becoming with each memory ripped from his mind. The longer he waited, the less of Oliver remained to be saved – he needed to get his memories back.

“Who could possible warrant the heir to the Demon chauffeuring them back to Nanda Parbat?” Stiles frowned, eyeing Ra’s with clear suspicion.

“You leave immediately.” Ra’s ordered, leaving his question unanswered and a sour taste in Stiles’ mouth at being told what to do.

 

* * *

 

 

The trip to Starling City was taken in uncomfortable silence. Each attempt Stiles made at conversation was blatantly ignored by Oliver, who instead focused on flying their small jet and giving him orders every so often when he needed a co-pilot. Eventually Stiles gave up, accepting the deafening quiet as inevitable and desperately trying to come up with plausible theories as to whom they were being sent for.

When they finally arrived at their destination, landing at an airfield on the edge of the city apparently owned by one of Ra’s al Ghul’s many shell corporations, Stiles had never been more grateful for a reason to break the silence. Even if that reason was to hunt someone.

“The prison is near the Glades.” Oliver spoke for what felt like the first time since their departure.

“Lead the way.” Stiles nodded, pulling his black hood up to shield his face as he followed Oliver away from their plane and towards their target.

They moved quickly, sticking to the shadows and expertly evading cameras and straying eyes of pedestrians stupid enough to be out for a stroll in the middle of the night.

The glades were just as rough as Stiles remembered them from his first visit what felt like a lifetime ago. In fact, criminals seemed even more abundant as they lurked through the area – most likely taking advantage of the Arrow’s absence to do whatever they wanted without consequence. In the time it took them to reach a rooftop just outside the prison he’d witnessed two muggings, one drug deal, and one stabbing.

“There.” Oliver pointed, surveying the prison through a pair of tiny binoculars before passing them to Stiles in stark silence.

Stiles took them, eyeing the prison briefly before frowning at Oliver.

“Which cell?” he asked.

Oliver said nothing for a long moment before finally muttering, “He didn’t say” under his breath.

“Helpful.” Stiles sighed sarcastically before clamping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and huffing. “Let’s get this over with.”

He closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the rooftop of the prison while trying to ignore Oliver’s displeasure at being touched without warning. When he opened his eyes they were on the roof of the prison and Oliver was glaring at him with an exaggerated frown of disapproval.

“What?” Stiles shrugged unapologetically.

He hadn’t truly had an opportunity to use his power since joining Oliver in Nanda Parbat. Sure he flexed his proverbial muscles, using his magic to ensure his combat abilities were just above that of a normal human, but he never did anything that couldn’t otherwise be achieved with years of training. Certainly not anything that would prompt Ra’s to reconsider his value in the League.

Oliver sighed, mouth set into a hard line before turning and striding away in stiff seriousness towards the rooftop entrance to the building.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” Stiles chirped, following Oliver and dutifully watching his six.

Oliver said nothing but the tension hanging between them was more than enough to alert Stiles to the fact he wanted nothing more than to disagree.

It was odd being around Oliver. He spoke even less than before and Stiles honestly couldn’t tell if he was losing his memories in sequential order or at random. Did he even remember Stiles was a spark?

He was afraid to ask. Instead he simply trailed behind the stoic man, hyperaware and ready to use his power at any moment.

The prison was every bit as huge as he’d suspected from the outside. With no idea who they were searching for, he wondered how they would ever locate the correct inmate. There was no way they could check each individual cell, that would take a lifetime – not to mention blow their cover.

It wasn’t until they reached cellblock F that a tentative voice echoed out from a cell. “Arrow?”

Stiles froze, as did Oliver, creeping over to the cell door to peer through the tiny, barred opening on the metal door to whoever was locked within.

A woman stood in the center of the cell, clad in a prison jumpsuit, with dark hair, pale skin and a mouth set into a disapproving line.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She spoke, accent velvety and filled with stern warning.

“This one.” Oliver spoke, ignoring her scolding in favor of nodding at Stiles in confirmation.

“Really?” Stiles frowned, glancing at the fair, dark-haired woman who appeared far too innocuous to be a prisoner in the first place.

“Why are you dressed in those clothes?” She asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Oliver and completely overlooking Stiles’ presence.

When Oliver remained silent she sighed, as if already knowing the answer, gripping one of the bars of her cell door to lean as close to Oliver as was possible.

“He’s taken you.” She whispered, voice dripping with dark understanding.

“If you mean Ra’s Al Ghul then I’d say _understatement_.” Stiles huffed, glancing at Oliver whose face was still perfectly stoned in an emotionless mask before leaning in to assess the cell door. “How’d you get arrested anyway?”

“My father.” She responded icily.

“Ouch.” Stiles didn’t even bother to look up, hand gliding over the cool metal of the door, feeling its smooth surface and every tiny piece of the mechanism hidden within the reinforced frame. “Whose your father?”

He concentrated on the mechanism, grinning as he heard a distinct click and the metal door slid open to a mildly stunned woman in a blue jumpsuit.

“Ra’s Al Ghul.” She replied levelly, taking a step out of the cell and reveling in her newfound freedom.

Before Stiles had a chance to respond to the bomb he’d just been tossed, a deafening alarm sounded and all hell broke loose.


	8. Blood of Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon! Enjoy!

“Shit.” Stiles cursed, glaring up at the speaker above them screaming a piercing wail that was undoubtedly summoning guards to the cell they’d just opened.

Oliver drew his bow, letting loose an arrow that stuck into the speaker, making it crackle for a moment before it droned into a low groan.

“Let’s go.” Oliver instructed, heading back the direction they’d come.

Stiles followed, keeping a close eye on their new female companion. Though Oliver seemed to know her, he knew better than to trust any relation to Ra’s.

They barely made it through one cellblock when an army of guards rounded a corner and barred their path, shouting harshly for them to freeze and threateningly brandishing batons and guns.

“Of course.” Stiles huffed, thick with annoyed sarcasm as he glared at the guards preventing their escape.

Oliver drew his bow, aiming an arrow in the direction of the Kevlar clad men as Stiles frowned and glanced around. There was no other way out and the halls of the prison were unsurprisingly bare considering the dangerous criminals they were containing.

Stiles’ brows shot up, grinning in sudden realization as a plan bubbled to life in his mind. He turned around, running back towards the cell they’d opened and earning an angry bark from Oliver in the process. He stopped once he reached occupied cells, glancing through the tiny barred windows as he quickly opened as many doors as he could.

Within a few short minutes almost the entire cellblock was freed and the guards were scrambling to recapture the rambunctious inmates violently searching for an escape.

“Smart.” The dark-haired woman spoke once Stiles rejoined her at Oliver’s side.

Stiles said nothing, not wanting to engage with her in any way. Instead he marched towards the exit, stopping only to overpower the few guards who noticed them in the chaos that had erupted.

“Oliver?” A familiar voice called through the loud haze of noise, making both Oliver and Stiles freeze in place.

Stiles recognized the voice immediately, not needing to turn around to see who was calling after them. He glanced at Oliver from the corner of his eye, wondering if despite his dwindling memories he still knew the man shouting his name.

“Oliver.” He called again, questioning vanished in favor of angry insistence.

Slowly, Oliver turned to glance over his shoulder and Stiles followed suit, eyeing Diggle with a mixture of concern and unease.

He was dressed in the same green hood that Oliver used to wear all that time ago – before he’d been forced into the black hood of the League. Though Stiles couldn’t see his eyes, he could tell they were narrowed beneath the shadow of the hood, glaring at them with accusation clear in the downturn of his lips.

Without warning he drew his bow, holding it pointed at Oliver in tense anger.

“You don’t contact us for weeks and when you finally show up you orchestrate a prison break.” Diggle ground out, no question in his words despite the obvious lack of understanding there. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put an arrow in you right now.”

Oliver drew his bow, aiming an arrow at Diggle as if ready to respond in full to the threat he was being given.

“What’s going on?” Diggle demanded, clearly warring with whether to shoot his friend despite the chaos he had created.

“All we want is her.” Stiles interjected, gesturing toward the woman they’d freed before things had gotten out of hand.

“She belongs in jail.” Diggle responded in clear refusal, never lowering his bow.

“Technically we all do.” Stiles shrugged dismissively.

Diggle’s scowl deepened at Stiles’ sarcasm as he bit out “No arguments here” and let his arrow fly.

Stiles batted it out of the air with the battle staves he was carrying, still not trusting their new company enough to let onto his true power.

“Fine.” Stiles growled darkly, stepping in front of Oliver protectively and facing Diggle with dangerous anger. “Let’s play.”

He rushed him, knocking him back a few steps before rushing him again.

“Stiles.” Oliver called behind him, watching the brawl disapprovingly.

“Go.” Stiles instructed forcefully, blocking a punch from Diggle and delivering one of his own.

Oliver turned, dragging the woman they’d been sent to retrieve with him as he continue on toward the exit.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Stiles insisted, blocking another hit.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Stiles made it out of the prison, he half expected Oliver to have left Starling City completely, taking their small plane and leaving him to find his own way back to Nanda Parbat. Instead, much to his surprise, he found Oliver standing in stark, unmoving silence several feet away from Felicity, refusing to look at her despite her pleas otherwise.

Nyssa stood a few steps behind Oliver, clearly trying to stay out of whatever argument was being had in her presence.

“Oliver.” Felicity spoke, clearly trying to remain strong despite her shaky voice. “Talk to me. Tell me how to help you.”

She was standing in front of an old, panel van with tinted windows, the sliding door open as if she’d raced out without much forethought – which based on Stiles’ knowledge of Felicity, she probably had.

“By staying away from me.” Oliver bit, a dark bitterness in his voice.

“You don’t have to do this.” She tried again, wincing only slightly at Oliver’s cruel dismissal. “You’re not in Nanda Parbat, you can stay. I can hide you.”

A heavy silence settled over them and Stiles glanced between the two in uncomfortable concern, unsure whether he should announce his presence as seemingly no one had noticed his arrival.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.” Oliver returned levelly, in cold detachment that made Felicity’s brows knit together in pained anguish. “I don’t love you, I never did, and what you’re doing now is borderline stalking. Now stop talking, stop looking for me, and for the love of god stop crying.”

Felicity, for all her stubbornness, immediately ceased her sniffling, her eyes still flooded with tears narrowing to glare harshly at Oliver.

“You might think that’s what you want, but I don’t believe you.” Felicity retorted levelly, almost venomously despite her shaking voice.

She took a few steps towards Oliver until her hand made contact with his chest, palm splayed flat against the black uniform that had become a part of his identity.

“I know you Oliver.” She insisted, voice low in a barely audible whisper as she surveyed his face with narrowed eyes.

Oliver was silent for a long moment, staring back at her with a deep scowl, until all too abruptly he swatted her hand away with his bow, making her cringe in obvious pain. He pushed her backward, watching emotionlessly as she stumbled on the uneven ground, barely catching herself in time to prevent collapsing in the dark street.

“No.” Oliver bit unforgivingly. “You don’t.”

A deafening silence settled over them, both glaring harshly at one another, as they stood unmoving in a silent battle of wills. Felicity was desperately clutching her obviously injured hand from Oliver’s strike, trying to keep the pain off her features in a way that made Stiles’ heart ache for her.

“Felicity.” Stiles spoke, low and full of sympathy as he finally announced his presence.

Her eyes darted to him, snapping away from Oliver in an instant as her angry expression mingled with one of concern.

“Where’s Diggle?” She asked, clearly torn between maintaining her brave façade and slipping into her unique brand of panicked worry.

“He’s fine. Just unconscious.” Stiles replied, carefully level as her face contorted back to anger at his words. “I left him behind a dumpster outside the prison. You should go before the guards find him and learn his identity.”

Felicity’s eyes darted back to Oliver, still ruthlessly emotionless, before returning to Stiles. She looked devastated which, honestly, Stiles didn’t blame her for. In a single evening she’d gotten Oliver back and lost him all over again – something Stiles knew the sting of all too well.

“Fine.” She ground out, fists clenched as if physically holding back the emotional outburst threatening to consume her.

One final time her eyes darted between Oliver and Stiles before she turned on her heel to climb back into the panel van she’d been using as a mobile base.

“Don’t come back.” She muttered over her shoulder, pain finally starting to seep into her voice now she was no longer facing them. “Ever.”

Stiles knew she didn’t mean it. The anger that came from betrayal made people say things they didn’t mean. Still, her tone was convincing enough to make him wince as she slammed the van door and sped off towards Diggle without so much as a backward glance.

 

* * *

 

The flight back to Nanda Parbat was spent in even heavier silence than before. Apparently the woman they’d rescued was named Nyssa, however she was infuriatingly unforthcoming with any other information.

The closer they got to Nanda Parbat the more stoic she became, her eyes blazing with something of a cross between rage and suffering.

Oliver did nothing to break the quiet. In fact, his jaw was even more clenched than usual, his interaction with Felicity clearly affecting him more than he cared to admit.

Stiles spent most of the ride distracting himself with cloud watching, gazing out the tiny window of the plane in disinterested boredom.

When Nanda Parbat finally came into view he breathed a deep sigh of relief. The sensation quickly fled him, however, when he spotted the small army of Ra’s Al Ghul’s men waiting for them to land.

He tensed, bracing himself as their jet jerked to the ground in an ungraceful descent, a horrible feeling of dread washing over him like a tidal wave. The doors of the jet opened and the men flanked their exit, forming a ridged path that didn’t allow for any deviation.

Stiles didn’t even bother to ask questions, knowing full well their armed escort would lead straight to Ra’s. He followed the silent direction of the men, Oliver and Nyssa walking calmly beside him, eyes darting around every few seconds as if assessing their threat level.

Within a few moments Stiles’ suspicion was proven correct, their escorts depositing them in the main hall where Ra’s was waiting with a stern mask to greet them.

“Well done.” He acknowledged them, eyes quickly locking on his daughter in an odd mixture of disappointment and contentment. “Now the ceremony can begin.”

At his words several men surrounded Nyssa, forcing her from the hall despite her very loud and very angry protests.

“What ceremony?” Stiles asked hesitantly, sure he wouldn’t like the answer.

“The union of my heir and my blood.” He replied, another group of men moving to lead Oliver out of the hall, albeit immensely more respectfully compared to Nyssa’s escort.

“Marriage?” Stiles muttered, complete shock in his voice as his eyes widened in panic at Oliver being led away.

Ra’s simply nodded in confirmation before following Oliver out of the room.


End file.
